


in the quiet that follows

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Implied Character Death, Implied Relationships, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been weeks and your brother is deteriorating and Cas hasn’t come out of the water and rattling inside your chest is not the worm of hope (that’s buried deep) but memories.  Secrets.  Moments.</p><p>Dean/Castiel, set during season 7</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the quiet that follows

You have lost him again.

This time it was to water and pride. There is a worm in your chest, a niggling creature of hope, and you want to smash it between your fingers but it wriggles away before you can grab it. It’s dangerous. It’s carving out pathways wherever it goes, cyclical thinking, he’s come back before, God brought him back, he’s not gone forever— if you waded in after him like you want to you’re half convinced you could reach out and touch familiar fabric, grasp him by the shoulders and pull him onto land like he pulled you from the pit. Enough of this nonsense. You’ve had enough of the endless cycle of death and reunion, you just want him back. But you’re angry, too. There are tight things, sharp things, killing things in your chest.

It’s been weeks and your brother is deteriorating and Cas hasn’t come out of the water and rattling inside your chest is not the worm of hope (that’s buried deep) but memories. Secrets. Moments. A vicious kiss when he wanted to kill you and when you wanted that, too. Touches in the dark when you hadn’t seen him in a year, and you knew he was different, and you knew you were in disrepair, and you wanted each other anyway. He tasted like iron. You should have seen it coming.

Night after night somewhere together, alone, asking does he know? Does Sam know? And Cas only looking at you, impossibly sad, (don’t fucking pity me, you said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t yet.)

You have always kept things bound tightly to your insides, barbed wire knots of insulating hurt. This is no exception but these sharp points are laced with something sweeter and sadder. Does he know? You asked, trailing kisses down his stomach. Does Sam know? Until he shut you up. There is no one to shut you up now but there is no one to listen, either. You have another drink.

To think that you might die this way, with all these moments rattling inside you, is almost enough to make you laugh. So many secrets, so many parts of yourself locked away. Never tell. Never say a word. What will they think of you? But you miss him and you hate him and you miss him and the worm of hope is so far away. There is no scar on your arm. He might never have existed, except the world is living in the wake of his failure.

One night in Bobby’s kitchen, with your third drink of the evening, with your brother across from you trying to be normal, with the memory of Castiel’s breath hot on your neck, with I’m sorry, Dean, ringing in your ears, you say—you say—

“Sam, he and I were—“

“Dean,” your brother says softly, sadly. “I already know.”

The knots loosen, but it turns out they were keeping you together.


End file.
